Two Bits
by coffeebuddha
Summary: Ryan gives Esposito a demonstration on the proper way to shave with a straight edge razor. Set during 2x23, Overkill.
1. Chapter 1

Ryan does a double take as he passes the open bathroom door and sees Esposito standing in front of the sink, studying a sample can of Damian Wilder's shaving cream and Ryan's favorite straight edge razor. Ryan leans casually against the door frame and clears his throat. Esposito jerks, the can and razor clattering into the sink, and Ryan winces when he sees how close the finely honed blade comes to slicing his partner's palm open.

"I thought we were taking a few hours off from thinking about the case," Ryan says, arching an eyebrow. Esposito shoots him a dirty look and carefully fishes the blade out of the sink, cautiously closing it before setting it back in its place in the medicine cabinet.

"We are. I was just wondering how you can stand to shave with that thing. It's a slit throat just waiting to happen, Sweeney."

Ryan rolls his eyes and pushes away from the door frame to pick up the razor. "First, your Johnny Depp obsession is getting out of hand again."

"I have three nieces who think he's 'dreamy' and a sister who thinks I should make up for shaving off her eyebrows when she was thirteen with free babysitting," Esposito mutters darkly, but Ryan doesn't give any impression that he hears him.

"Second," Ryan says, smoothly flipping the razor open again so that he can gingerly test the blade with his thumb. "Second, you get a better shave with a traditional razor, and it's not hard so long as you know what you're doing and take your time."

Ryan looks up when Esposito scoffs loudly, his eyebrow raising impossibly higher. He steps forward and, before Esposito can move away, captures Esposito's hand and brings it to his cheek. "It's a better shave," he says quietly as he rubs the back of Esposito's fingers against his skin. Esposito watches him, his dark eyes unnervingly intense. "I didn't shave this morning, but I'm still smoother than you are right now, and I bet you _did_." He moves their hands from his face to Esposito's so that he can feel the difference, and his heart pounds so hard that Esposito must be able to hear it when Ryan's fingers graze his stubble. He drops his hand and quickly looks at the can of shaving cream in the sink. In his peripheral vision, he can see Esposito thoughtfully running his hand over his jaw.

"Okay," Esposito says slowly as he reaches out to take the can of shaving cream. "Show me."

"Show you? What do you mean 'show you'?" Ryan blinks and looks up at Esposito, who doesn't look away as he uncaps the can and squirts a generous glob of cream in his palm. He takes a quick step back in case Esposito tries to smear any on him, but instead the other man tugs his undone collar open a little wider and deftly spreads the shaving cream over his own cheeks and down his neck. Esposito sidesteps around Ryan to rinse his hand off, wiping it dry on his jeans, and taps the flat edge of the razor Ryan's still holding loosely in his fingers when he doesn't respond. Ryan jumps a little at the touch and his eyes flicker to the dot of stark white shaving cream that landed on Esposito's dark blue collar.

"Show me," Esposito repeats. He flips the toilet seat down, sits, and looks up at Ryan, who stares blankly down at him. "I've got a barber in a can, but why not take advantage of an _actual_ barber if I have one at my disposal?"

Ryan takes a wary step toward Esposito and thumbs the hollow ground razor blade again, suddenly aware of how very, very sharp it is. "Wouldn't you rather watch the movie instead? I'll even let you theorize about whether Cameron Frye's crazy or if all that stuff is actually happening."

Esposito rolls his eyes and takes Ryan by the wrist, tugging him forward until he's standing between Esposito's knees. "Just shave my face." He glances between the razor and Ryan's face. "And try not to cut me."

"Right," Ryan says. The razor feels heavier than usual, although the smooth handle is still comfortably familiar in his hand. "Don't make any sudden movements."

He lightly rests the tips of his fingers on Esposito's forehead and gently presses down, tilting his head back. Ryan's stomach flips at how bare and exposed Esposito looks like this, the long line of his neck more vulnerable than it has any right to be. He has to close his eyes for a moment and when he opens them Esposito's watching him, his expression unreadable. Ryan looks away, leaning over to turn the sink on. After one more deep breath, he lifts the razor. He's never shaved anyone else before and he keeps his movements slow and careful. Esposito's nostrils flair when the cold blade first touches his skin, but he doesn't pull away. Ryan's a little surprised at how steady his hand is on the first short, smooth stroke.

Neither of them speak and the room fills with the soft sounds of their breathing, running water, and metal scraping against skin.

Ryan leans in a little closer, careful to shave against the grain, pausing between each swipe to rinse the razor. The blade drags against Esposito's stubble, and Ryan swears he can feel each individual hair catching. His eyes are fixed on what he's doing, but he can feel Esposito's eyes boring into him, the weight of them almost unbearable. He licks his lips and realizes they're parted and that his breath is coming faster, harder. But the razor is still steady and sure in his hand, and when he presses this way and that on Esposito's temple, the other man moves easily under his guidance.

He pauses once before a stroke, looking at the contrast of the cold, hard metal against Esposito's warm, fragile skin, and he looks up then, locking eyes with Esposito. There's so much trust there, more than he would have thought possible. Esposito's life is in his hands almost every day, but not like this. It would be so easy to press down or slash to the side, but Esposito doesn't seem concerned, had actually offered himself like this to Ryan. It's heady, almost dizzyingly empowering, and he rinses the clean blade a second time because he needs that moment. His fingers move down from Esposito's temple to the top of his cheek in a near-caress, and he carefully drags the blade.

When his neck is done, Ryan drops his hand to his throat, the pad of his thumb flat against the underside of Esposito's chin. Esposito swallows and Ryan can feel his Adam's apple bob hard against his palm. The bathroom door, which has never hung right, swung close minutes ago, and the air is thick and damp from the steam rising out of the sink. This has to be the longest shave of Ryan's life, but Esposito doesn't complain, doesn't move, barely even breathes. A bead of sweat slides down the line of Ryan's spine to the dip of his back, and he rolls his neck, trying to loosen the tension that he can feel building in his shoulders. And Esposito watches.

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**Thank you for reading! Feedback is overwhelmingly appreciated.**

Written in response to a prompt at the Castle kink meme on livejournal-"Castle's free samples come into good use when Ryan (or Esposito) shaves the other's face: shaving cream, straight razor, the whole thing. Make it steamy and sensual, please."


	2. Chapter 2

One of Ryan's ears is a tiny bit lower than the other, and Esposito wonders if Jenny's ever noticed that. Not that he would judge her if she hadn't. It's such a small, inconsequential thing to notice; so easily missed, nearly impossible to gauge with the naked eye. But Esposito, he sees it, because after all these hours, days, weeks, months, years of seeing Ryan-not just looking at him, but really _seeing_ him-he thinks it would be just as impossible to miss his ears as to overlook his blue eyes or crooked grin.

He'd picked up the razor on a whim. He's known Ryan shaves with one since the first time they went drinking together, near the beginning of their partnership, when Ryan had a few too many and tried to 'convert' him. If Ryan remembers that night, he's never let on, but it's still so easy for Esposito to call up the memory of the warm weight of Ryan's arm slung around his shoulders for balance while he clumsily patted Esposito's face. His expressive blue eyes had been fuzzy and unfocused, his smile more than a little wobbly, but his hand had been hot and when he'd leaned in to hug Esposito for being 'the best new partner a guy could ask for', Ryan's cheek had been smooth against his.

The shaving cream is warm on his face, but not nearly as warm as Ryan's fingers on his forehead, and the razor blade is cold at first. Esposito forces down a shiver and refuses to examine if it's the chill or something else that causes it. His pulse is jumping wild, he can feel the beat of it in his throat and temples, and there's no way that Ryan can miss that. Not when it's so obvious. But then again, Esposito reflects as he watches Ryan, his partner is good at missing things that should be obvious when there isn't a dead body involved. Ryan's cheeks are flushed, his lips just barely parted. The tip of his tongue touches his lower lip and his eyes are intense and his fingers are hot on Esposito's forehead.

Ryan pauses, his eyes locked with Esposito's, and the razor presses a little harder against his neck. It's not enough to break the skin. Just a reminder, one he isn't sure Ryan even realizes he's giving. Here, trapped in Ryan's cramped, steamy bathroom, Esposito is his.

Fair enough. Esposito's his. Here in the bathroom. At the precinct. On the street. Sunday through Saturday. Take him home to meet the family, slip a ring on his finger, and stick him in front of a church full of their friends and relatives. He's fucking his.

Esposito's head spins, dizzy from the heat and the humidity and the spicy scent of the shaving cream and the feel of Ryan's hands on him. Ryan's eyes are back on what he's doing, but that doesn't stop Esposito from falling into them. He wants to grab Ryan and tell him to stop. To stop, that enough is enough. Enough with the movies. Enough with the games. Enough with the hanging out and talking and laughing and touching that should be innocent, but isn't. Enough with having to listen to Ryan start to say something about Jenny, then suddenly stop mid-word, his eyes darting away guiltily. Enough with pretending that everything is okay and that they're happy and that this, this, this thing between them is normal.

Then Ryan's hand is on his neck and the razor's against his cheek. Esposito swallows, trying to hold back the desperate, probably nonsensical words he can feel bubbling up urgently in his throat. It would be so easy to destroy everything. Their partnership, their friendship. Because if that isn't everything, then Esposito doesn't know what is. The razor blade scraping across his skin is sharp, but his words could be sharper, deadlier. It wouldn't take much, only a few sentences. A few sentences to point out what neither one of them has the fucking guts to say-what's as obvious and overlooked as Ryan's crooked ears.

It's an eternity before Ryan finally steps away to drop the razor on the edge of the sink and grab a towel. Esposito expects him to hand the towel over, but instead he wipes it over Esposito's face himself, his movements as slow and careful as they had been with the razor. Esposito can see beads of sweat around Ryan's hairline and he wants to reach out and wipe them away. His hand's in the air before he can stop it, but he course corrects at the last moment, touching his own cheek instead. Ryan looks at him, his expression saying 'Well?' so loudly that his lips might as well have formed the question.

Esposito clears his throat, but that doesn't stop his voice from coming out as a near croak when he says, "Perfect."

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**Thank you for reading! Feedback is overwhelmingly appreciated.**

Also, just in case you missed them, I posted a couple of Halloween themed R/E fics the other day. Tis the season, after all!**  
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